This trip was going to be shorter than the others.

The _Mare Nostrum_ went to Corfu with war material for the Serbs who were reorganizing their battalions destined for Salonica.
On the return trip Ferragut was attacked by the enemy.

One day at dawn just as he mounted the bridge to relieve Toni, the two spied at the same time the tangible form that they were always seeing in imagination.

Within the circle of their glasses there framed itself the end of a stick, black and upright, that was cutting the waters rosy in the sunrise, leaving a wake of foam.
"Submarine!" shouted the captain.
Toni said nothing, but shoving aside the helmsman with a stroke of his paw, he grasped the wheel, making the boat swerve in another direction.
The movement was opportune.

Only a few seconds had passed by when there began to be seen upon the water a black back of dizzying speed headed directly for the steamer.
"Torpedo!" shouted the captain.
The anxious waiting lasted but a few seconds.